Aftermath
by PikachuGhost
Summary: After Carl is shot Rick brings him to Hershel's farmhouse, only to discover that Carl is now paralysed from the waist down. Weeks later, Carl struggles to cope with losing the use of his legs. Season 2 AU. No slash. Rick, Carl and Shane.
1. Chapter 1

Rick Grimes paced the narrow hallway of the farm house. He was desperately tired, but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. Nearby his wife Lori was slumped in a chair, her eyes glazed and half-closed. He looked down at his bloodstained hands, which he had not washed since arriving at the farmhouse. It was Carl's blood. Somehow Rick kept expecting to wake up and find out that all of this had been just a bad dream, that his son hadn't been shot and that everything was normal, at least as normal as things could get in a Walker-infested world.

A quiet movement to his left grabbed his attention and he saw the broad-shouldered figure of the Hershel walk in, wiping his hands with a bloody rag. Lori got to her feet, hand over her mouth as she stared at the white-haired man.

'How is he?'

'He'll live.' Hershel's voice was thick with fatigue. 'I've managed to stop the bleeding.'

Lori buried her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking with relief, but Rick could see the slouch in Hershel's shoulders and he had been a cop long enough to know when someone was going to deliver some bad news.

'Tell us,' he said.

Hershel took a deep breath. 'The bleeding's stopped, but the bullet went through Carl's spine.'

Lori looked between Rick and Hershel. 'What… what does that mean?'

'It means his spinal cord was damaged. He's paralysed.'

Lori blinked. 'Paralysed? What are you talking about?'

'He's got no reflexes in his lower limbs,' said Hershel. 'I can't tell if the damage will be permanent.'

'Are you sure?' said Rick. 'No offense but aren't you just a vet?'

'I'm positive.'

Lori was still standing with a hand over her mouth, eyes staring at nothing. Rick went to her and pulled her into his arms, holding her close. He could hear her whispering into his shoulder.

'Paralysed? Oh my god Rick, our baby's paralysed!'

Rick wanted to offer some words of comfort but when he reached inside himself he couldn't find any. All he could do was hold her while she sobbed into his blood-soaked shirt and try to hold back his own tears.


	2. Chapter 2

Rick stepped up onto the porch of Hershel's farmhouse carrying a stack of washing in his arms. Across the way he spotted Andrea standing guard, a rifle across her knees. Nearby Carol was busy hanging out clothes on a washing line whilst Dale and Glen poked about under the hood of the RV. Rick smiled tightly to himself. Their lives had started to fall into a routine, but he knew the apparent safety of the farm was an illusion. The Walkers were still out there, as well as the gangs of desperate survivors, and eventually the group would be discovered. And Rick feared what would happen then.

Pushing his dark mood to one side he opened the door and stepped into the cool dark of the farmhouse. From the kitchen he could hear the sounds of Beth and Maggie preparing the midday meal. They were giggling about something, and Rick's smiled widened, glad that they could still find something to laugh about in this crazy world.

He shouldered open a door into the back bedroom where Carl slept. Hershel had helped him clear it out so that Carl could have a place to sleep on the ground floor, making it easier for him to get around the house. Carl lay on the bed, his face turned towards the window. His skin was pale from long confinement indoors and he wore a faded button-down shirt that Daryl had picked up in an abandoned store. Hearing his dad enter, Carl turned his head and smiled up at Rick.

'Hey Carl.'

'Hey Dad.'

Rick dumped the stack of spare sheets into an empty armchair, walked over to the bed and started peeling back the sheets. Carl's legs lay flopped to one side, supported by a pillow beneath his knees. A cloth diaper was wrapped around his waist, yellowed slightly where urine had seeped through the thick padding. Rick helped his son roll onto his side and removed the unpleasant bundle.

As Hershel had predicted, Carl was paralysed from the waist down, resulting not only in paralysis but incontinence as well. Rick was used to changing his twelve-year old son by now, but it had been a difficult transition for them both, with Carl struggling to come to terms with being cared for. He wanted to be more independent and useful to the group and felt like he was a burden to him, a sentiment which Rick couldn't entirely dismiss.

He wiped a damp cloth over Carl's backside, cleaning the mess and bundling up the dirty diaper before putting the clean one on. Carl rolled back over, his eyes turned away, looking embarrassed. 'Sorry dad.'

'Don't be sorry,' said Rick. 'It ain't your fault.'

Scooping the boy up in his arms he lowered him into his wheelchair. They had picked it up from a local hospital on a supply run and had been lucky enough to come across a child-sized wheelchair that suited Carl. He helped position Carl's feet on the foot-rests and took hold of the handles to push him out of the door.

'Where are we going?' asked Carl, and Rick sensed the alarm in his voice.

'Just outside for a bit. You need some fresh air.'

'Do I have to?' Carl reached down and took a firm grip of the push-rims on his wheels.

Rick bent down so that he was on the same eye level as the boy. 'You can't just stay in this room forever. You know you can't.'

'I know. I just don't want to go out just now.'

'I know you don't like this Carl. It sucks, but we won't be staying here for long. Hershel's let us stay so that you can recover, but once you're ready we're leaving.'

'Why?'

'Because that's what we do. We always gotta stay one step ahead.'

Taking hold of the wheelchair, Rick pushed Carl out of the room. Patricia was standing in the hallway and gave them a hearty wave. 'Hey honey, it's good to see you up and about.'

'Thanks,' said Carl. He kept his head down, staring at Patricia's shoes.

The rest of the group also seemed happy to see Carl. They gathered around and patted his back or ruffled his hair, but Rick could see his son was unhappy being the centre of attention and asked everyone to stop making a fuss. They sat down around the large kitchen table to eat whatever canned food was on the menu that day. Carl barely touched his food. He sat with his hands gripping the armrests of his chair as though if he let go he might be flung out of it, staring straight ahead.

'You okay?' asked Rick, leaning over and whispering in his ear.

'Can we go?'

Rick nodded and stood up, grabbing the wheelchair and pushing Carl out of the room. He wheeled him out of the front door and sat next to him on the deck.

'I'm sorry.'

'You don't need to be sorry.'

'It's just they were all staring at me and… and…'

'You don't have to explain. They'll understand.'

'I don't think I can do this dad.'

Rick looked at him seriously. 'You have to Carl. I know it's hard but you have to keep going. You can do this. I know it.'

Carl wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. 'Okay. Okay. Where's mom?'

Rick grimaced. Lori hadn't been at lunch and he had no idea where she was. Off on a supply run probably, or away on one of her long walks. Since Carls injury she had remained distant, unwilling to accept what had happened. Her perfect boy was broken and there wasn't anything she could do to fix it.

'Is she mad at me?'

'Why would you say that?'

'Cause I got shot.'

'She ain't mad at you. She's just…' Rick searched for the right words. He had never been good at this sort of stuff but without Lori around he had to be there for Carl. 'She's just hurting and trying to handle it in her own way. She ain't mad at you. She might be mad at me but that ain't nothing new. She don't blame you for getting shot, she loves you.'

Carl nodded, gazing out over the green fields towards the tree line. He had always been so serious, reflected Rick, even when he was very young. He had a depressive streak which definitely wasn't helped by losing the use of his legs.

'If we get attacked what will happen to me?' asked Carl suddenly.

'What kind of question is that? We'll protect you, same as always.'

'But I can't run.'

'Then we'll carry you.' Rick placed a hand on his shoulder. 'We won't ever leave you behind. I promise.'

Rick glanced up and saw Lori hanging around the RV talking to Carol. She looked away, seeing that he'd spotted her, and started walking off. Rick felt a flush of anger twist his gut. He was hurting too, and what the hell gave Lori the right to abandon Carl the way she was doing? He got to his feet.

'Stay here a moment,' he said.

'On my own?'

'The others are inside. If you need anything or you see anything, you call out for them, they know you're here.' Rick stepped off the deck and strode towards the spot where he'd last seen Lori, calling out to Carol to find out which direction she'd gone in.


End file.
